


Written In Gold

by helloyesIamtrash



Series: Inked at Midnight [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Artist! Akaashi, BROtp bokuroo, Confessions, Demisexual! Akaashi, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate AU, Soulmate Tattoos, Soulmates, bokuto is dumb as usual, literally just fluff what more do you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7125838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloyesIamtrash/pseuds/helloyesIamtrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though no one knows how or why, at midnight on a person’s 16th birthday, they get writing on their wrist, almost like a tattoo. This writing, whatever it says, has something to do with your soulmate. It’s usually something like the first thing they say to you after it appears, or an inside joke you two will have, maybe a phrase they say a lot. Simply a push in the right direction, fate’s little nudge-nudge wink-wink about what future you have in store. This is the story of how Bokuto and Akaashi became soulmates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written In Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yumia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yumia/gifts).



> I FINISHED IT BLESS  
> Special thanks to Yumia, my wonderful beta who helped me out with this fic! Thanks for being patient.  
> In all seriousness, I'm really happy with how this turned out! I got the basic outline and then I went 'wait what if Akaashi was demisexual' and then it got longer and then I thought of a cute epilogue and then it got even longer. I have no regrets. I hope you all like it! <3

It was Bokuto’s 16th birthday, and he couldn’t fall asleep. He had tossed and turned for a few hours but then gave up and decided to have a staring contest with the clock, because it’s not like he had anything better to do. Besides, it was mocking him, he swore. Time seemed to move sluggishly, minutes feeling more like hours. Maybe it was his ADHD, but he didn’t care. 

He just wanted it to be midnight. 

Though no one knows how or why, at midnight on a person’s 16th birthday, they get writing on their wrist, almost like a tattoo. This writing, whatever it says, has something to do with your soulmate. It’s usually something like the first thing they say to you after it appears, or an inside joke you two will have, maybe a phrase they say a lot. Simply a push in the right direction, fate’s little nudge-nudge wink-wink about what future you have in store. Bokuto had waited for tonight for as long as he could remember, really. 

The first time it had been brought up is when he was 6, and had asked his mom what the words on her wrist meant. She had smiled fondly and told him ‘This is what brought your father and I together, my little owl. Someday, you’ll get one of your own, and it will lead you to the person who you’ll spend the rest of your life with.’ His eyes were glowing with childlike wonder as he started bouncing up and down on her knee, begging for the story of how his parents met (they had met at a library, which was ironic because both are too loud for their own good, and were cramming for finals. His father forgot his math textbook so he asked his mother to share with him when he noticed that her textbook was the same as his, and the rest was history). They were still going strong now, which always makes Bokuto happy. 

On Bokuto’s 16th birthday, they were practically beaming at their son, overjoyed that he may share a version of their joy with someone he loves. However, they also made it clear that not having a soulmate was okay too, or having a platonic soulmate, which would be indicated from a telltale green font. 

Bokuto had appreciated this, though he knew that if he had any kind of soulmate, platonic or not, they were going to be fighting an uphill battle. He had been told by his teachers, his classmates, and countless others that he was too hyper with too little of an attention span. He didn’t let it get to him too much, though, as it helped him weed out those he could count on from any others. Kuroo, for example, was the best brofriend he could ever ask for. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had a platonic tattoo for Kuroo himself, except for the fact that the spiky-haired male already had a tattoo written in a red-orange hue. 

Golden eyes flicked back towards the clock, as it read 11:57. 

Never before in his life has he wanted to punch an inanimate object this much. 

He let his thoughts wander to what he thought his soulmate be like. Images of intoxicating eyes and patient smiles and flurries of kisses danced through his head, making him grin like an idiot. He wasn’t too sure about the gender of his soulmate, though. He thought girls were hot, don’t get him wrong, and he wasn’t lying when he said their shapes were enticing. But men were also extremely attractive to Bokuto. Like. Their muscles were hot as fuck. Although lately he had realized that he much prefered ones with pretty faces, or slightly feminine features- he wasn’t sure why. He also prefered girls with more masculine traits, and upon telling Kuroo this, he told Bokuto that he was a selfish bastard who wanted the best of both worlds. 

He wasn’t wrong. He just wanted someone he could trust, tease, love, and simply to enjoy for the rest of his, or rather, their, lives. He didn’t doubt that he would get one, though, because if he didn’t believe, then he wouldn’t get one! A determined smile danced across his face, ready to face his opponent (the clock), when he felt a gentle wind and an invisible force on his wrist. He turned to the clock, and saw the time. Midnight. Unable to resist temptation, he whipped his hand up to his face, then promptly hit himself with his own hand. ‘Smart move, Koutarou, smart move,’ he groaned internally, but shook those thoughts away and stared at his wrist. 

It was a neat font, so neat that it could almost pass for print, but there were telltale little swishes on the ‘i’ and ‘l’. The words were a gradient of charcoal gray and a light blue, but what caused him to burst out laughing for a total of 5 minutes straight was what the words spelled out. Because they were a little insulting, but true nonetheless. ‘This is going to be fun,’ he thought with a stupidly optimistic grin on his face, and looked down at his wrist once more. 

‘You look like an owl.’ 

He quickly called Kuroo, who he knew would be awake and waiting for his call. And if he wasn’t, he didn’t care. The other boy picked up on the third ring, his voice sleepy, but still had an excited ring to it. 

“Bro, Bro, so what is it? What does it- Bro?” Kuroo’s voice quickly turned confused, as Bokuto was still trying to calm his bouts of laughter. 

“Bro- bro hold up, I’m sending a picture. Bro. I can’t, I’m dying over here.” Bokuto sputtered between giggles, quickly snapping a picture of his new tattoo and sending it to his best friend. A loud snort was heard over the other line, and then peals of laughter joined Bokuto’s own. 

“Brokuto, I’m dead. Where is the lie?” Kuroo wheezed after calming a bit. “I already approve of your soulmate. Nice handwriting, too, though you can’t really tell the gender. That’s a bit of a problem for you, but bro. Bro that’s great. I’m so happy for you.” 

“Thanks bro, but you know you’ll always be my best bro. Brofriends for life.” 

“Bro. I’m shedding man-tears. I love you, bro. In a frienship-homo way.” Bokuto could practically feel Kuroo’s grin through the phone. 

It was the next week when his coach had an announcement when Bokuto’s life changed, though he didn’t know it yet. His coach had announced that a local middle school’s art club was wanting to look around the high school for sources of inspiration for their final project - the theme was ‘Beauty in Motion’. One of the students (who was going to attend their high school next year, apparently) had wanted to check out the athletic clubs for the project, and the coach gladly accepted. On that day, Bokuto Koutarou died. 

Figuratively, of course. 

It was because of the middle school student, and hot damn, he was so pretty that it was unfair. The boy had green eyes, sparkling with interest as he watched the court, and they flicked up from the drills down to his paper as he sketched away. Those eyes fell onto his golden ones a few times, and Bokuto felt blessed. His pale skin was smudged with charcoal because of his drawing, but the boy didn’t care, and somehow looked (unfairly) good anyway. His hair was raven black, a bit wavy if you squinted. He was lithe, but not weak or overly buff. Most importantly, this ethereal figure was attending his high school next year. And, as he did with all important matters, he immediately texted Kuroo about it. Because what else would he do that was logical right now?

Me: b r o  
Brokuroo: What is it my brofriend  
Me: [Attached image] i have been blessed with this angel bro look at how pretty he is i might d i e kuroo  
Brokuroo: Damn. Nice.  
Brokuroo: You should hit that.  
Brokuroo: Or talk to him, at least.  
Me: how do I talk to him tho i can’t what if i mess up  
Brokuroo: You talk too much as is how is this any different?  
Me: i’m wounded, bro how could you say that to meeeeeeeee  
Brokuroo: Just talk to him already, bro. Who can resist your annoying charm?  
Me: U think i have charm???????? AWWWWW BRO THANKS ILY  
Brokuroo: I love you too bro  
Me: gay  
Brokuroo: Pot calling the kettle black.  
Me: You know i didn’t mean it like that bb sorry  
Me: im gonna talk to the angel now wish me luckkkkkk  
Brokuroo: Don’t spontaneously combust~~~~

Bokuto sat up with renewed vigor, his eyes searching for the pretty male from before. But he wasn’t on the bleachers, like before. He wasn’t near the water fountain, or in the gym at all. When he asked the coach, he said that the boy had left in a hurry about five minutes ago. 

Bokuto was crushed, to say the least. 

Me: bro  
Me: he’s gone bro he left already  
Brokuroo: I mean he’s coming there next year, right? Why worry, you’ll woo him then, if you remember him, that is.  
Me: how could i forget that angel bro 

\---------------------------------------------- 

Akaashi had gotten his soulmate tattoo just when everyone else had. The difference was, he didn’t really care up to that point. 

Sure, the thought of soulmates was nice, but he wasn’t really interested in that kind of relationship, or any relationship, really, that involved sexual contact. Romance was a nice idea, he liked it. But he knew that he couldn’t take part in it, as he couldn’t ever give his partner what they might physically want. 

He considered himself demisexual. He never felt a pull to a person’s body, never felt this ‘flaming desire’ that was often described in the books that some of his female friends read. He could appreciate the looks of another person, sure, but the actual act of sex? He found himself uninterested and uncomfortable showing his body to others, especially in that way. With the right person, maybe he would consider it, but for now, he has not. Therefore, whenever his friends giggled about some crush during gym class, he could comprehend the feelings and sexual tension there between two people (because in middle school it was so thick Akaashi could cut it with a knife), but he didn’t understand the draw to any of it. 

Romance was a concept, however, he could understand perfectly. The thought of having mutual feelings, happy moments, and a long life together was comforting and peaceful, but pushing genitalia in someone or just interacting with it in general seemed foreign and unappealing to him. As a result, whenever the topic of soulmates came up, he simply shrugged it off and thought he wouldn’t get a soulmate, because he’s never met anyone who would want to be with someone romantically and not sexually. It’d just be unfair to that person, anyway. If anything, he’d maybe have a green tattoo that symbolizes friendship, and that’s if he was lucky.

So when his golden soulmate tattoo popped up on his skin, a million thoughts whirled through his head, yelling things like ‘Why do I have this?’, ‘It’s not green?’, and ‘I have a soulmate?’ and a sheer wave of panic that he had been avoiding for these past 16 years hit him all at once. Though, a small little voice in the back of Akaashi’s head went ‘Your tattoo is golden, like that boy’s eyes from before. Could he be your soulmate?’. Akaashi quickly shushed that voice, but his thoughts drifted to him anyways, as they always did. 

It was back in middle school when he first saw the boy. The art club teacher-supervisor had given them the topic ‘Beauty in Motion’, and Akaashi figured he could just go to a random sports or dance club and get away with something, so he had chosen the high school volleyball club. He heard that they were good, anyway, so he figured that he might as well see what the fuss was about. When he walked in the door and took in a big whiff of eau de sweaty teenagers, and almost made a U-turn - until he saw the boy. 

Akaashi inhaled sharply as he quickly did a once over. The way the other males were treating him told him that the boy was a first-year, but he clearly acted like a five-year-old. He could hear the excited yelps from all the way across the gym as he jumped up and down with seemingly unlimited energy. His hair, like said energy, defied all laws of reason, and, in this case, gravity. Akaashi wondered passively how long it took him to get ready in the morning, and how many cans of hairspray he must use. It was partially dyed, too, bits if gray and white mixed in with black. The loud boy quickly turned his attention to doing drills, as most of the other boys were doing, and Akaashi became mesmerized with his eyes. They were golden, cheerful, and determined, and reminded him greatly of a Great Horned Owl. But, this boy personified something else to Akaashi. 

The determination in his eyes, the quick reflexes he saw during the practice games he had with his teammates, the pride of completion, all gave Akaashi the impression that this boy was the personification of victory. 

He began to furiously sketch basic front-and-back outlines so that he could remember the uniform and look later when he returned to the club room. Then, he started to draw different poses, watching other players for examples of body motion, but he then scrapped that at the boy spiked down powerfully. His face lit up with a childlike joy, and his eyes met Akaashi’s from across the gym. Akaashi quickly went back to drawing, flustered that he had been caught staring at some aesthetically pleasing stranger that he didn’t even know. His peripheral vision, though, told him that golden eyes were still trailing him. After a few minutes of being unsure of what to do, Akaashi sighed and simply focused on a draft of a spiker whose arms, ready to hit the ball, looked like wings. After deciding that he was good for most everything, Akaashi shot one more quick look at the boy, a bit disappointed that those golden eyes were glued to his phone. He left quietly, but his head was filled with inspiration and new ideas. 

“You found a muse, I see.” The art club’s supervisor quipped to him a few months later, as they stood at the art competition that he had been submitted into. Akaashi looked at the man, confused. The supervisor turned to him with a knowing smile. 

“You must have, Akaashi-san. Ever since the ‘Beauty in Motion’ project,” He waved to the picture they were standing in front of, a watercolor of a boy with speckled wings, leaping towards the sun. “You’ve had one constant factor in your paintings. Gold.”

A frown found it’s way onto Akaashi’s face as his teacher then walked away, and as the artist looked around, he realized that this was true, and that he must have been using the color subconsciously. Large owls, which he realized he quite enjoyed drawing as of late, all had large, golden eyes. Rays of yellow-gold moonlight fell onto treetops in landscape paintings. All little things, not noticeable to the common observer, but still present as an underlying theme. Akaashi groaned, cursing himself for turning into some awkward teen from the movies that his sister watched so often, because he know that this all started when he saw the boy’s eyes from the volleyball club. He found some solace in the fact that the boy would probably never see these pictures, though it still bothered him. 

He actually hadn’t thought about the boy in a while, until his birthday. The gold had been brought out again, the thoughts pushed to the back of his mind returning to nag him. The words only brought those thoughts out more, as he could definitely imagine the boy saying ‘HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK OF MY HAIR?’, which were the words written in sloppy handwriting on his wrist. The boy’s hair was a very unique style, from what Akaashi remembered, so it was a possibility. He sighed in resignation, as he knew what he had to do to end this, once and for all. 

He was going to play volleyball. 

\------------------------------------------- 

Bokuto grinned as he ran into the gym for the first time as a second-year student, waving to the third-years. They smiled tiredly and waved back as he jogged over, not bothering to look at the first years that had arrived before him. 

“Sorry I’m late, Minami-sensei made me stay after class for a little while. What did I miss?” Bokuto cheered. The others laughed good-naturedly. 

“Staying after class already, Bokuto-kun? I bet she thought you were a delinquent, with your hair and all.” One of the third years teased, a light smile on his face. 

“Yeah! It’s dyed and spiked to high hell, I bet she was shaking in her boots.” Another nodded in agreement, remembering the timid teacher from the years prior. 

“Oi, my hair is cool, not scary!” Bokuto interjected. 

“Shush, you’re gonna scare the poor first years.” The first one said, nudging his friend as they laughed good-naturedly, Bokuto laughing with them. 

“I’ll prove it!” Bokuto said with a grin as a he heard the door to the gym open. Without fully comprehending the person, he whipped around and pointed at him. 

“HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK OF MY HAIR?” He cheered, before realizing ‘Oh shit, it’s the pretty artist from before!’. He was just as gorgeous as he was last year, Bokuto’s attraction growing as he saw him in volleyball shoes and gym shorts. The boy froze, his pretty green eyes widening ever-so-slightly as he heard Bokuto’s words. He seemed to be at a loss for words, trying to think of a good answer before sighing in defeat. 

“You look like an owl.” He said, his melodic voice quiet and monotone. Now, it was Bokuto’s turn to freeze for a good minute, his brain short-circuiting before a large smile made its way onto his face. The third years were busy dying of laughter, because they would be lying if they said that the boy was wrong. The boy seemed like he didn’t quite know what to do, though, as he was turning slightly pink and was looking at literally anything but Bokuto, visibly recollecting himself as he bowed slightly. 

“Ah, my name is Akaashi Keiji. Nice to meet-” The boy- Akaashi- had started to say, before he was tackled to the ground by Bokuto himself. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Akaashi! You’re the pretty artist from before, right? Right?” He asked excitedly, his arms wrapped around the black-haired male. 

“C-Can’t breathe…” 

“O-Oh, right! Sorry, sorry!” Bokuto said, his eyes showing mirth and not even a hint of an apology as he got off of Akaashi. The male sat up with a halfhearted glare before he nodded. 

“Yes, I am. And you’re the boy who I drew for my project.” He stated, and he would be lying if he said that the way Bokuto’s eyes lit up wasn’t one of, if not the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. 

“You did? Can I see?” 

“No.” 

“Why?” He whined, staring at Akaashi pleadingly. The stare-off lasted a bit before Akaashi blinked and sighed.

“Maybe later, I don’t even have them with me right now.” 

“Yay!” Bokuto beamed, standing up before offering a hand to the black-haired male who was still on the floor. He took it, brushing himself off lightly before turning to face the other. 

“You never did tell me your name.” He stated, his eyes curious and bright as they searched his own. 

“Bokuto Koutarou, second year, ace of the team, and your soulmate!” Bokuto grinned, and Akaashi smiled softly at his antics. 

“Nice to meet you, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi said quietly. “We can talk more about this after practice.” Bokuto nodded happily and ran back over to what Akaashi assumed to be the third years, and smiled softly as he saw his soulmate talk animatedly to his teammates. Akaashi was undoubtedly happy that he found his soulmate, albeit wary of how Bokuto would react to his sexuality. He didn’t want to talk about it with others around, though, since he considered it to be a more private bit of information. It wasn’t like he was hiding it, but he also didn’t want to announce it to total strangers. So, he simply went through practice, and though it was sweaty and difficult, Akaashi found that he liked the sport. It was interesting, and had some tactics that he could get into. He especially enjoyed setting, the feeling of setting up powerful plays all resting on his decisions. It was nerve-wracking, sure, but fun all the same. He left practice sweaty and gross, but with a feeling of euphoria that was pleasant. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Akaashi! You said you wanted to talk after practice?” Bokuto prompted, falling into step with the boy as they started to walk away from the gym. Akaashi nodded nervously. 

“Bokuto-san… I never expected to have a soulmate, ever. So I’m not fully prepared to have a relationship. I would prefer to take it slow, if that’s alright with you.” Akaashi started, his tone serious, with a hint of nerves showing as he spoke. 

“That’s fine! Whatever you’re comfortable with is what I’ll follow along with. I was afraid you didn’t like how your soulmate was male.” Bokuto grinned, relief evident in his words. Akaashi blinked, and then shrugged. 

“I’ve never really been one to care about gender, but I am demisexual.” He spoke carefully. 

“Demisexual? I haven’t heard of that before.” Bokuto asked, his eyes shining with curiosity. 

“To me, it means I am uninterested in having sex unless it is with a specific person, an exception that I am comfortable enough to have sex with. I probably won’t be comfortable with you in that regard for years to come, possibly not ever. Are you okay with that?” Akaashi asked, his eyes glued on Bokuto to gauge his reaction. The boy stared back for a bit, but then simply smiled. 

“Well, you’re my soulmate, right? I care more about you then having sex. Besides, sex isn’t the end-all-be-all in any relationship, for me, at least. That isn’t what I want for us.” Bokuto said simply, as if stating obvious facts. His words gave Akaashi some ease, but… 

“Then… What is it you want?” Akaashi asked hesitantly.

“For you to stay beside me.” Bokuto said immediately, without a second thought. A hint of pink tinted Akaashi’s cheeks as he stared at him, and Bokuto’s face, in contrast, was becoming comparable to a tomato. 

“I-I mean, if you’re okay with that, you don’t-” He was cut off by Akaashi wordlessly wrapping his arms around him, his grip tightening ever-so-slightly. 

“I’d be more than happy to do that... Koutarou.” Akaashi murmured into Bokuto’s ear, smiling as the golden eyed boy immediately began to return the hug. 

They had each found someone who would stay with them. Bokuto’s worries of being thought of as annoying and too much to handle, being left behind because of it, would vanish. Akaashi’s worries of being rejected because of his sexuality, that no one could ever love him because of it, were erased as well. The relief they felt for that could not be put into simple words, but they did the best they could do. 

“Thank you.” They said at the same time, pausing at the words of the other, before laughing and pulling each other closer. They would be just fine. 

Epilogue: 

“Koutarou, what is all of this?” Akaashi asked worriedly as he entered their apartment and saw an absolute mess. Pots and pans were stacked haphazardly in their sink, ingredients to… something... were strewn across the countertops, splatters on the cabinets were common, and in the middle of it all was a sniffling Bokuto Koutarou, whose state seemed to immediately worsen at the sight of Akaashi’s arrival. 

“Keiji, I’m s-sorry.” He sniffled, and in a second Akaashi was at his side, comforting him despite the fact that he was covered in random food items. He didn’t say anything, just held him until he recovered enough to speak. 

“What happened, Kou?” Akaashi cautiously asked, his tone quiet and comforting. 

“I was trying to make us a nice anniversary dinner, but I messed it all up. I’m sorry, this wasn’t what I had in mind.” Bokuto muttered, ashamed of his actions. Akaashi figured it was something like this, as Bokuto always tried to do something on their anniversary (it was their tenth one), but nonetheless, Akaashi couldn’t hold back a small giggle. 

“Don’t laugh, Keiji!” Bokuto whined, pouting as Akaashi smiled sheepishly. 

“I appreciate the effort, Koutarou, but let’s just clean this up and order in. Fancy dinners have never really been our style anyway.” He said with a small smile, and Bokuto nodded, as he wasn’t wrong in that fact. So, they spent about an hour cleaning up the kitchen, and then changed into their pjs and ordered pizza. Bokuto unceremoniously flopped onto the couch and held his arms out to Akaashi, who, instead of cuddling up into his arms, shook his head and held up a finger, signaling ‘wait a moment’, before he went into their room. When he returned, he held a thick sketchbook, and it looked well-loved, with wear and tear evident from the cover. He sat down next to his soulmate and took a deep breath. 

“This is my anniversary present to you, Koutarou. I wanted to tell you about why I came to the volleyball club and how me met, so don’t say anything until I’m finished, okay?” Akaashi said, gripping the sketchbook tightly as he spoke. Bokuto was unable to see what was inside, but he brushed his curiosity away for later, and nodded. 

“When I came to the volleyball club for the first time, we talked about how you saw me in detail… I still remember your face when Kuroo showed me your texts to him when you first saw me. But I never told you how I saw you, in detail, so I figured I’d show you instead. At first, I was intrigued. I could see how childish you were from a mile away, but I could tell you were powerful, and not to be underestimated by any means. You seemed to defy all reason, from your spikes to your hair. But your eyes are what captured me, the golden color. What I’m trying to say is, to me, you were victory personified, and I wanted to capture that. So, I started to sketch it.” Akaashi stated, and turned to the first page. It was a front-and-back picture of Bokuto, and it was easy to see that it was rushed, but spot on. There were a few facial expressions as well, one even yelling ‘Hey, hey, hey!’ in a small bubble. Bokuto looked at it in awe, simply absorbing the information. 

“Then, I drew this one - it had gotten me an A for the project I originally went to your gym for.” Akaashi continued, flipping to the next page that showed a picture of Bokuto spiking the ball, the background grey, but the aura surrounding the male and his eyes were a metallic gold, screaming ‘victory’ and ‘power’. The aura around him formed wings, spread and ready to soar. Bokuto thinks, at this point, he will probably cry by the time Akaashi is done. 

“I didn’t even notice, but even after, I couldn’t stop drawing with gold. I wouldn’t have noticed it either, but my teacher had pointed it out, and I realized it was because of you.” A few more pages, some landscape sunsets, some angels, and a few sun-and-moon drawings, all having the same gold somewhere in them. 

“I couldn’t get you out of my head, and before I knew it, my birthday rolled around, and I saw that gold again on the tattoo I didn’t even think that I would have.” They both smiled at this, looking at the tattoo on Akaashi’s wrist. “But a small voice in my head said that my soulmate was you. That boy from before with the golden eyes who I couldn’t get out of my head, whose name I didn’t even know, was my soulmate. So, I did the only thing I could do in my situation - I decided to join the volleyball club. And then I met you, and everything clicked.” The next page was of Bokuto and Akaashi setting up for a victorious spike, the golden aura surrounding them both, sharing the same golden wings and Bokuto decides that yes, he is definitely going to cry. Akaashi picked up on this, and simply hands the sketchbook to him. He grabs it and flips through it, choking back tears.

Colors made their way into the pictures as they continues, but gold still remained prominent. There was a picture of their first kiss, they first victory when they were both regulars, their first date… it was all of their happy memories together. It was their lives. Bokuto was crying at this point. 

“I-I know I’m not very good at saying this, and I don’t as often as I should, but I love you more than you could ever imagine, Koutarou. Thank you for staying with me.” Akaashi said, his voice breaking a bit, and Bokuto realizes he’s not the only one crying. He carefully places the sketchbook down on the table and pulls Akaashi into a kiss as they melt into each other. 

“Thank you, Keiji, I love it. And, I love you, so much.” He whispers happily, pressing their foreheads together as they beam at each other, euphoria overwhelming them. 

“Happy anniversary, Koutarou.” 

“Happy anniversary, Keiji.”

**Author's Note:**

> yES PLEASE LOOK AT THOSE LIL BABES BEING CUTE AND RUINING MY LIFE AND SHIT N I C E  
> Anyway, as for the next installment of Inked at Midnight, please tell me what you guys want in the comments! (although I'm almost done with the Daisuga one oops) 
> 
> A)Daisuga  
> B)KuroKen  
> C)KuroTsukki  
> D)MatsuHana  
> E)Kyohaba  
> F) TsukkiYama  
> G)Other??? Request something if you want idk 
> 
> Love you all, hope you enjoyed! <3


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